


The Last Rood

by Liena67



Series: From the end a new beginning [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adlock, Child Abuse, F/M, Homicide, Love, Serial Killer, noir, process
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liena67/pseuds/Liena67
Summary: Third long story of this series. Here we find Miki, Eleonor and Alex who are now part of the life of Sherlock and his friends. The life of Sherlock continues and also the story with Irene, but there are past events that threaten their present and future and a new series of very brutal murders to be solved.I recommend reading at least the two previous long stories of this series, Black Heart and Scholar's MateI think this story is the one with the most noir atmospheres and perhaps even the most gothic of all, as some have defined it. Start with a short but very, very strong piece.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story start with a short but very, very strong piece.  
> In the dynamics of history it is absolutely important and I could not not put it, but for me it was devastating to write it because it is more a memory than an invention. I decided to put this part of me in this story, probably because now I'm in deep catharsis with the characters of this series and for me this story is cathartic. But I promise you that the story is not as heavy as it might seem from the first chapter. But certainly with dramatic tones. After all, Sherlock loves melodramatic tones.  
> For those who decide to continue, enjoy reading.

_**"LIFE IS NOT FINDING THEMSELVES, LIFE IS CREATING THEMSELVES"** _  
_**GEORGE BERNARD SHOW** _

**London - Before everything happened**  
  
At the age of ten, when they tell you to enter a room for confession, you do not protest. It's normal, all your companions do it. For you it's the first time, but in the oratory you know everyone and you always trust adults dressed in black. Your mother trusts them and you trust you too. The room is a little dark, you can hardly see anything, but it must be like that, because confession is an important moment and it's like talking to God.

So the men in black told her and now she is sitting, waiting that someone arrives. She keeps her eyes down, does not look who enters and sits next to her. She only hears his voice, but the voice speaks in a whisper and she fails to recognize who he is. The voice starts asking her questions, he wants to know about her sins. But she is only ten years old, she does not have much to tell. But the voice insists, he wants to know how to play with his companions, if she has a boyfriend, if they kiss, if they touch, where they touch. She is only ten years old, but in her soul she knows that those questions have something strange. But she feels compelled to answer. She must answer, she must confess, she cannot do otherwise, even if she wants to leave the room instead. The air seems a little missing and the man dressed in black now holds a hand on one knee of her. Then, still talking in a low voice, he puts his other arm on her shoulders and she feels herself tighten.

"Do not be afraid, it's part of confession, it's for purification, it will be like kissing God".

She is only ten years old, but she feels it inside that everything is wrong. It is like a sudden feeling of deep nausea, it takes her to the stomach but also more inside, into the soul.

The air becomes unbreathable, those slimy lips kiss her and it seems to kiss a snake.

She does not have the strength to do anything, as if she were tied up with invisible chains that prevent her from doing anything.

With eyes wide open she prays, prays that this confession will end soon, because she does not like it, does not want it, it's the worst thing in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**London - Baker Street - 18 January 2019 - 10.00 a.m.**  
  
John Watson received that message a little over half an hour and rushed to 221B Baker Street from the surgery he had just arrived. He inevitably had to skip appointments in the morning, leaving the task of advising patients to the nurse. Fortunately, the majority of those who turn to him as a doctor, also know that sometimes, even often, the duty calls him elsewhere, even if the duty has a name and surname that everyone knows. John turns off the car and descends, heading quickly to the front door. He opens with his keys, because that always remains a bit even his home, he enters and closes the door behind him. Mrs. Hudson is not at home. She decided to go on a trip with some friends to visit distant relatives, who hardly ever sees and whose names she barely remembers. But she took the opportunity to visit places she had not seen for a long time. John climbs almost up the stairs, with his almost militaristic sure step, which from a former military never leaves him, wondering what happened. Sherlock's message was always synthetic but alarming.  
  
**Sherlock:** I need you. Hurry up. S. H.  
  
John opens the living room door and enters his friend's apartment upstairs. He looks around and sees a chair on the floor. The desk is empty and everything that is usually on top is scattered on the floor, even his laptop. He turns to the kitchen and there, too, there are cups and plates on the ground in pieces.  
"Sherlock" he exclaims in a loud voice, now worried, running a hand through his short light brown hair "where are you?" he looks towards the corridor and the bedroom door is ajar.  
"I'm here in the room, please come" he hears his friend and immediately reaches the room. He opens the door, imagining that he may find him injured or something similar, he looks out of the room and sees Sherlock in bed. Behind him, hugging him, Irene. Both are naked under the sheets and have a hand tied together with a pair of handcuffs to the keyboard of the bed.

"The keys flew that way," Irene tells him with a mischievous smile, pointing with her free hand. John remains speechless for a moment, then suddenly, realizing the situation, he suddenly turns his back on them.  
"You two are the most impossible and terrible people on the face of the earth," he exclaims, widening his disconsolate arms, thinking that he has left all his patients for nothing. He hears them laughing behind his shoulders, as he searches the ground until he finds the keys to the handcuffs.  
"If you do not stop swearing, I'm leaving and you'll have to wait for Mrs. Hudson to free you," he says, before approaching the bed and handing the keys to Sherlock, trying to look away.  
"Excuse us John, the thing there is a bit out of hand, it is obvious. But at least I made your morning less monotonous" Sherlock tells him, taking the keys from his hands before the friend changes his mind.  
"I hate you, if I did not love both of you, I could kill you right now," he says as he leaves the room.  
"And while you hate us, would you prepare a little breakfast? I'm quite hungry and I'm pretty sure you have no more dates for this morning," Sherlock answers, opening the handcuffs with the keys and rubbing his wrist a little sore.  
"Of course I'll prepare it, but if you die poisoned, know that it's only because of you," John exclaims, sighing resignedly, but with an amused smile now that neither of them sees him.

Irene, having freed herself, puts the handcuffs on the bedside table and then returns to embrace Sherlock, now lying on his back, resting her head on his chest.  
"Next time, let's avoid getting together, maybe, even if it was a lot of fun," she says in a whisper, stretching out voluptuously.

Sherlock holds his arm around her shoulders and smiles, caressing her back and her long dark hair.  
"Yes, it seems a good idea, also because he could really kill us one of these times" he replies with a slight laugh.  
"I think so too" she adds, kissing him lightly on the lips and then get up "I'm going to take a shower, for me even a juice," she says while naked she opens the bedroom door and enters the bathroom.

Sherlock looks at her, as always admiring her beautiful slim and sinuous body, and when the bathroom door closes again, he gets up too. He wears pajama pants and a T-shirt and runs his hands through his dark hair, whose rebellious curls fall around his angular but beautiful face, highlighting his clear, penetrating eyes and full lips. Barefoot he crosses the corridor arriving in the kitchen and even so his innate elegance, almost aristocratic, cannot be hidden. The smell of coffee is already spreading and he sees John with a broom cleaned the floor from cups and broken dishes.

"When Mrs. Hudson realizes it, I would not like in your place, Sherlock" the friend tells him in an ironic tone.  
"Maybe she does not notice, she's filled my house with cups and glasses when I use a couple of them at most," he replies, going to the fridge to get some oranges.  
"On this I would not swear" John tells him throwing the broken pieces and, back to the stove, he takes the pot of coffee ready, then bringing it to the table where he has already prepared for three. It's not the first time they have breakfast together, also because John often does not do it when he leaves home, just worrying about getting his daughter Rosie to eat, before taking her to kindergarten, and Miki, who has now started attending school, after having recovered with their help all the instruction he had not had during the years of imprisonment.  
"I'm going to take Miki when he leaves school, I promised him that we would still do violin lessons," Sherlock tells him as he prepares the juice for everyone.  
"He's learning everything with incredible speed, I would not want to tell you that, but I think he's smarter than you," John adds, sitting down at the table, thinking that the boy who has lived most of his life locked in a cell, has a very special resilience.  
"Too much intelligence alone is not enough, but luckily he also has something else" Sherlock tells him, bringing the juice pouring into the glasses.

The bathroom door opens and after a while Irene arrives wearing a dressing gown. She sits in her place and in silence now all three are enjoying breakfast. A moment of serenity and peace that they can fully enjoy, a moment that recalls that strange calm that promises a storm.


	3. Chapter 3

**London - Islington - St. Peter's Italian Church - 18 January 2019 - 8.00 p.m.**  
  
The London Borough of Islington is a London borough located north of the city, and in the area of Clerkenwell, remembered by all as Little Italy, the Italian church of St. Peter is still today a meeting point of the Italian Catholic community. Set among palaces and shops, the church has a bell tower of more than 33 meters and boasts the largest English cast steel bell still in use.

At eight o'clock in the evening the church's functions are now over and Jack Finaldi, the sacristan, is now checking that everything is fine and ready for the next day. Jack Finaldi, apart from the surname and the Catholic religion, feels himself English in all respects. The family has not even spoken Italian for at least a couple of generations. Yet all of them continue to live in this area and attend this church. Perhaps because feeling part of a community makes they feel less alone anyway. Jack has now passed forty years old, but he has never married. He wanted to, but the women he fell in love with over the years were not of the same idea. Now he no longer thinks about it, he has taken his habits and after all, living alone also has its advantages. For example, tonight he can go to the pub with friends and drink beer in rivers, without worrying about going home drunk, which he often does.

He looks at his prominent stomach, giving it an almost affectionate pat and smiling he walks along the left corridor, taking a look, between a column and another, to the numerous benches leading to the high altar. Arrived almost towards the end of the corridor, from where he can access the sacristy on the back, something attracts his attention. He did not understand what it is while walking but there is something out of place.

He goes back then a few steps going to the altar. In the apse above it there is the fresco of the Ascension in Heaven of Christ and immediately underneath he sees something that should not be there, a large crucifix resting on the altar.

Jack blinks, it was only a couple of hours after the end of the last function, just to start wetting his throat with a couple of beers in the pub next to the church. For what reason did the parish priest bring this crucifix? And above all, as he did to bring it, because it had to be heavy.

He approaches rubbing his eyes. There is something strange about what he is seeing and when he arrives a few steps he opens them, paralyzed by surprise and sudden fear.

In front of him, on the crucifix, there is not a statue of Jesus but a man, wearing only a cloth around his waist. Blood runs from his nailed hands and feet and a deep wound in his abdomen. His eyes are wide and glassy and staring at him making him tremble so much that his knees give way as he falls back.

He sits quietly on a bench, finally hunts a roaring noise throughout the church and finally faints, ending in a dreamless world but red like all the blood that filled the floor and where he almost seemed to drown.


	4. Chapter 4

**London - Islington - St. Peter's Italian Church - 18 January 2019 - 11.00 p.m.**  
  
Greg Lestrade wonders why he still persists in doing this job. Perhaps he should retire early, so his dreams would no longer be populated by these horrors that he has to see. Then he reflects that if there is no one to stop these horrors, the world would become even more uninhabitable than it already is and sighing he goes out of the church, leaving the scene to Philip Anderson and his men. The sparkling air of this London January makes him resume and, passing a hand through the short graying hair, he moves near a police car, waiting for him to arrive. It did not take long to realize that for this case he would need his help and did not even wait for the phone call, which would arrive on time, by Mycroft Holmes. The government with such a case certainly would have required to solve it as soon as possible and the only way to do it was to seek the help of Sherlock. Now, leaning against the car, Greg really hopes that his friend is able to solve it in a short time, because seeing a man crucified is one of those moments he wants to forget as soon as possible.  


"Tell me you did not leave Anderson alone on the crime scene, Greg" Sherlock's voice coming up behind him makes him jump.  
"It's his job Sherlock, sometimes you could even give him some credit," he says, nodding his head to him and John together.  
"I gave him too much in these years, it would be time for him to change jobs," Sherlock replies, moving towards the entrance to the church with the two following him closely.  
"Oh come on, sometimes something good he has done. He also became a fan of yours in the end, do not treat him too badly" John tells him shaking his head, even though he knows that the friend is right. Anderson does his job of collecting evidence, but in terms of intuitions and deductions decidedly limp.  
"If he does not say too many stupid things, I'll try to be magnanimous for once" he replies, entering the church now.

Sherlock stops at the center of the main aisle and observes the scene. Although far away the crucifix is well evident and positioned exactly in the middle. All around the men of science are collecting evidence and photographing every detail. In a corner just entered a container was placed with the over shoes to wear and all three now take a pair.

"Let's go and see what it's about," he whispers, almost speaking to himself. The scene is certainly disturbing and sadistically mystical. The human crucifixion can have many meanings and Sherlock is listing them all in his mind, pulling them out of his mental palace, to see which one gets closer.

Greg remains a few steps away, for today he has watched enough that mess.

Instead, the two friends approach each other to observe the details closely. Sherlock takes his magnifying glass, which he always carries in his pocket and leans at the base of the cross, examining the blood-stained floor.

John carefully looks at the wound in the abdomen and the nails planted in the hands and feet. Both the arms and the legs are tied to the cross with ropes, so that the body remains supported in the typical position of a crucified Jesus.

"He was stabbed before they nailed him," John says, looking at the kind of wounds, "but he was not dead yet when the killer started to hammer the nails. My God must have been a horrible death ".  
"All the death are horrible John, but certainly this was particularly painful," Sherlock replies, standing up and at that moment he sees Anderson approaching.

"So, from my deductions, I believe that there were at least two or three assassins who crucified the man when the cross was on the ground and then raised it and placed it on the altar," Philip says to both.  
"Do not Anderson," Sherlock replies.  
"What should I do not do?"  
"Deduce, do not do it, collect evidence and stop thinking, it's the best thing you can do," Sherlock still tells him without even looking at him.  
"Okay, so tell me what's wrong with my deduction. Come on, the crucifix is too heavy with a person on it to have lifted a single man and since the victim was still alive when they started, the crucifixion certainly must have done with the rood lying on the ground, otherwise it would have rebelled. And they had to be at least two or three to keep it still. Maybe they brought him here bound and gagged and then put him on the rood," Philip says in one breath, still sure of his reasoning.

"Now you will waste my time explaining the obvious" Sherlock replies, raising his eyes to the sky "if they had crucified the man on the ground, the blood would also be here in front and not only under the rood, not to mention the fact that clearly it is dripped from above. Also there would be signs of dragging, because a rood with a man of this weight cannot be raised, even if in three people, without leaving marks on the ground," he says, turning now to the rest of the church, swarming with men in white overalls and of agents.

John and Greg, following his words, observe the floor and can only agree with their friend. Anderson, with his back chine, nods, because also this time he was wrong in his suppositions.

"So, how was he crucified in your opinion?" Greg now asks.  
"He climbed the rood," Sherlock says, turning again "he must have come here of his own free will. There are no signs of ropes or anything on the wrists. For some reason, he undressed and climbed on the rood. The rope around the legs and that of the right arm must have tied him. The knots are tight but not very strong. Instead, that of the left arm must have tied the killer, because it has a completely different and tight knot ".  
"But what kind of reason would one go up on a rood to get himself killed like this?" John asks, bewildered but certain that his friend is not wrong in the reconstruction.

"I do not know yet, John. When I understand it, we will also know who we should look for" Sherlock answers, looking at those glassy eyes that stare at him as if somehow they could give him the answer he needs


	5. Chapter 5

**London - 44 Eaton Square - 19 January 2019 - 9.30 a.m.**  
  
Irene is sitting on the sofa in the living room on the ground floor. She wears a dressing gown and keeps her legs huddled in a comfortable position. In her right hand, she holds a cup of sip coffee, while reading from a tablet the news about the murder in the church, that Sherlock is dealing with. He came to her home late at night and told her everything. Together they have come to rule out that this is a sadistic practice. There was no trace of torture before the crucifixion, or any other sign that made think of a sadistic game, that resulted in a final aberration. But it is certainly a ritual murder. Irene rereads the article a second time with an unpleasant, undefinable inner feeling, then closes the tablet, by placing it on the bedside table next to the sofa and gets up. She goes to the kitchen where she fills a cup of steaming coffee, and then, without making any noise, climbs back to the upper floor.

When she arrives in front of the bedroom, she pauses at the door jamb and smiles, watching Sherlock sleep again. In recent months they have lived a period of relative peace. He has always had his cases to be solved, without which he would be apnea, but nothing that would endanger any of them. This case, however, she feels it, is one of those that scald and with which they can hurt themselves. She sighs, knowing that, anyway, nothing and nobody could stop him and less than ever she would do it. After all, she also loves him for his ability to never back down before the most difficult challenges. To see him play, as he says, and winning is as much a drug for her as it is for him.

She is now detached from the jamb and approaches the bed. Sherlock is lying on his stomach in a comfortable position, covered only by a sheet. She sits on the edge of the bed and with her finger caresses his bare back to wake him up.  
"Hi, sleepy, I would not wake you up, but I remind you that you have a case to solve and that soon John and Miki will come" she says, placing the cup of coffee on the bedside table.

Sherlock opens his eyes and looks at her with a sleepy smile.  
"Good morning, what a good smell of coffee" he says stretched "okay now I get up and get ready" he adds sitting down "are you sure that leaving Miki with you today is not a problem?" he finally asks, taking the cup of coffee.

"If it was, I would have told you, you know. Miki is a very smart kid and I prefer his company instead of the majority of my clients and of the people I know. He is more pleasant and stimulating," she chuckles, "and then I take the opportunity to spend some time with my brother. Accompanying him by Alex to see his laboratory, will be interesting for him and for me" she added, finally caressing his leg absently.

"Yes, I think so too. And it's safe for him to spend the day with you, rather than with the baby sitter and Rosie. He is very attached to the child but also needs stimulation. He will love Alex's lab and his research very much." Then he finishes the coffee and place the empty cup on the bedside table with an expression now absorbed.  
"This murder I'm afraid that it will not be the only one, you know, it's too complex this ritual to be an isolated case, I fear" he loudly speaking getting out of bed "it will be better to hurry, I want to go to Greg and see what came out of the life of victim".

"When you're finished, call me so I'll see you at John's house," Irene tells him, sitting on the bed as she watches him go to the bathroom and cannot help but admire the naked body and its elegant movements.

"Do not look at me too much," Sherlock tells her loudly before entering the bathroom.

"I like looking at you, it's stronger than me," she replies, chuckling.

"I know," he says, laughing before closing the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**London - Saint Bart Hospital - 19 January 2019 - 11.30 a.m.**  
  
Alexander Hall is bent over the microscope, where he is studying the samples that Molly Hooper has procured for him. For months the laboratory of the anatomopathologist has also become his and here, thanks to her help, his research project is proceeding rapidly. In addition, her company is really nice.

Molly is different from all the women he has known until then, and her natural shyness both touches and fascinates him at the same time. He cannot understand why such a smart and intelligent woman as she is can be so shy and insecure, but he finds that the contrast makes her particularly intriguing. Sometimes they even went out together, after work, going to have a beer in a pub where she brought him.

Generally, the pubs are not locals that he frequents. He has always been used to the most elegant and listed restaurants. A habit inherited from his father, the second husband of his mother, who brought him and Irene to always eat in refined places, to teach them the pleasures of life, as he called them. Then one day he disappeared into a ravine, driving a car at a mad speed along a cliff, one of the pleasures of life that led him to an untimely death. From that day on, there were no more elegant lunches or dinners for a long time. Once an adult and began his brilliant career, Alex has resumed those habits, as if with this he could revive the best moments of his childhood. Yet that beer in that simple pub, with the music at high volume, the noise, the laughter of Molly, are new habits that he would not mind having.

He pulls his eyes from the microscope and, cracking a couple of ribs, spreads his body dry, which tries to keep fit running almost every morning. The door opens and distracts him from these thoughts when he sees Irene and Miki enter the laboratory.  
"Oh hello, welcome," he says to both going to greet them "Hello sister, I find you as always beautiful," he says to Irene kissing her cheek. His dark blue and penetrating eyes, so similar to hers, then rest on Miki and, with an almost professional look, he extends his hand to greet him.

"Hi Miki, I'm glad you managed to come, I just needed an assistant and they told me you're pretty good". Miki, as always, wears his black patch on his left eye, which he has not had since the organ traffickers, of which he was a prisoner, have taken it away from him. Sherlock gave him a dozen different colors, which he constantly changes, but the black one, the first one he had given him, is still his favorite. The brown hair now has a nice neat cut, even if he always takes them a bit long, and the look of that one gray eye is always intense and alert. He shakes Alex's hand with the same seriousness of the man, staring at him for a long time.  
"I will be happy to help you Alex, but you will have to teach me what you need, because I have not yet studied medicine" he replies, with a confidence that always seems so strange for a boy of just eleven or so.

"Of course, I will teach you what I need you to do to help me. As for studying medicine, maybe it's a bit early, even if they told me that you learn very quickly to tell the truth" Alex replies, leaving his hand. He moves now a few steps and takes a gown that Miki can wear together with a mask and gloves.  
"Keep wearing these and come with me, so I'll show you what I need".

Miki does not have to repeat it twice, and when worn, he follows him to a table where there are several containers full of liquids, others filled with small pieces of leaves and roots of all kinds, a sterilized syringe and tweezers. Alex tells him that the analysis of all the herbs and roots is for his research and explains to him, showing it, that in order to analyze them, each of them must be put into four types of liquids. He then lists the names of all the samples and those of the four liquids and looks at him to see if he has understood.

Miki listens carefully without losing a single word and finally nods. Without waiting for him to tell him, he starts taking a root sample with a forceps, places it in a tube and fills it with one of the four liquids. He then closes the tube, by marking the name of the root and of the liquid on it, and proceeds with the second.

Alex looks at him nodding, satisfied.  
"Maybe you will not have to wait so long to study medicine, I have the impression you are good in these things" he says, amazed that after explaining the procedure and the name of the roots once, Miki has already learned everything almost perfectly. He then moves away from him, going near Irene, who has remained a little apart to observe the scene sitting on a stool around the large table in the center of the laboratory.

"It's really incredible his ability to learn, I know less awakened trainees than him," he says to his sister, sitting at her side, without losing sight of the work he's doing.

Irene smiles nodding. In this Miki reminds her very much Sherlock and for this she really likes him. If she did not know for sure he could not be, she would really think he was his son. It is also true that, apart from the innate intelligence, Miki is assuming many attitudes of Sherlock. The boy literally adores him and probably tries to emulate him out of affection. Living with John, however, he is also taking some sides of his friend and this is good. If he takes the best of both men, she reflects, he will become an extraordinary man.  
"I believe it Alex, he has a highly developed IQ. Unbelievable that he evidently had underdeveloped parents to the point of selling him to organ traffickers when he was little," she tells him in a low voice not to be heard by Miki.

"Yeah, every time I think about that story, I get chills. Luckily it ended well, at least for him and the others who managed to free" Alex replies in the same tone "Molly told me how difficult that investigation was", he adds.

Irene turns to look at him now and a mischievous smile appears on her face.  
"How's it going with Molly?" She asks without preamble.  
"The research do you mean? Oh, very well, she's a great work colleague, we're taking giant steps with her help," he replies, continuing to look at Miki.  
"Do not be smart with me, you know I was not talking about research, so I'm asking you again. How's it going with Molly? "  
"I do not understand what you mean, little sister," he says, raising an eyebrow and looking back at her.  
"Please do not let me tell you the obvious, please" Irene tells him, crossing her arms over her breasts.  
"You're talking like him, do you realize that?" Alex asks, chuckling.  
"Yes, very likely, but do not change the subject and answer, you know that I do not like to repeat myself" she now says in a more serious tone.  
"Do not be a dominatrix with me little sister, do not attack with me" he replies smiling at her with an ironic and amused tone.  
"So, are you going to invite her to a serious date or do you want to keep pretending nothing? I know you like her and you know it too" she asks him now, smiling again.  
"I do not know, I do not want to ruin a good working relationship, and you know that I always tend to make trouble in these things. And then she might not want it that, you know," Alex tells her, looking back at Miki, who has almost finished her job.  
"Please do not talk nonsense. She likes you a lot and only a blind man would not notice it. As for the combination of messes, given the kind of women you have attended so far, maybe it's the right time to do it. But you'll never know if you do not invite her to an appointment. And do not wait for her to do it because Molly is not the kind of woman who takes certain initiatives," she says, caressing his face with a tender gesture that has not stopped doing since they were little more than children.  
"Sister, then one day you will explain to me why in the end I realize that you're always damned right" he tells him kissing her palm.

Miki meanwhile has finished and placed the syringe turns to Alex as if to wait for other instructions. Alex gets up from the stool and takes the test tubes into a car, showing him how to set. Miki listens and does not miss a word. While waiting for the car to finish the work, he turns to Irene and smiles at her. Irene likes him a lot because as Sherlock treats him like an adult. She does not often smile or hugs him like Molly or Eleonor, but when she smiles, he feels happy. It also happens to Sherlock, he saw it. He is happy when she smiles at him. Maybe that's also why Miki really likes her. And now Irene is smiling at him. This day will be better than those spent at school, it's sure.


	7. Chapter 7

**London - West Smithfield - Church of St. Barth The Great – 21 January 2019 - 5.00 p.m.**  
  
Sherlock observes the church of the priory of San Bartolomeo the Great that stands before him in his austere but impressive architecture. He knew it would happen again, but he hoped he had more time to avoid it.

Unfortunately, digging into the life of the first victim, Jim Nolan, has led to nothing. No skeleton in the closet, no obvious enemy, no one who had a grudge against him. A normal employee of a normal car dealership. He had no contact with customers and was well seen by his colleagues. He was not married and was not engaged, but he did not even have any murky hiding stories. The only link with the church in which he was crucified, was his birth membership in the Catholic Church, but actually he was not a practicing Catholic, according to who knew him.

Groping in the dark is something that Sherlock does not like and is not used to, and now this church wonders what he missed and what he could do to prevent it from happening again. Because he knew it would happen again.

"Is it all the same Sherlock, is not it?" Greg asks to his side with a white face as he tries to fight the nausea. Getting used to seeing bodies is an account, and you never get used to it, but getting used to seeing crucified men is not really thinkable.

"All the same Greg. Apart from the fact that this is an Anglican and non-Catholic church, we have the same dynamic and same ritual. He also climbed alone on the cross and tied his legs and his right arm. The knot on the left arm is the same as the first victim, so it's assumed to be the same killer," Sherlock replies, sighing as he looks around the area, surrounding the church and boasts a number of pubs and restaurants.

"John, in your opinion, what time has he been killed?" He asks his friend near him.  
"From how the blood is covered and from the first reliefs made, I would say last night no later than ten o'clock" John replies shaking his head.

Sherlock does not answer but just nods. In silence, he continues to look around until he returns to look at the facade of the church.  
"Greg goes to the station and looks for a link between the two victims, there must be something that connects them, dig deep and let us know" he says starting to walk along the sidewalk "John let's go".  
"Let's go where?" his friend asks, following him after saying goodbye to Greg.  
"Let's try the beers of these pubs," he says without stopping with a determined expression that John knows very well, that of a hound dog that has just found a track and does not intend to give it up.


	8. Chapter 8

**London - Saint Bart Hospital - 22 January 10.00 a.m.**  
  
Molly Hooper closes the cold room where the first victim is kept and returns to the table where she has just finished the second victim's autopsy, Roland Walker. The hand that killed the two men is certainly the same, as her friend Sherlock had already guessed. Same blade in the abdomen, same cut, same force impressed and depth of the wound. This does not help to understand who the killer is, but certainly limits the research. She carefully covers the corpse and finishes filling the card until she hears the morgue door open. She looks up thinking that is Greg, but she sees instead enter Alex.

"Good morning, colleague, can I enter?" He says, entering with his friendly and captivating smile and his way of doing a little light-hearted, but never annoying.

Molly looks at him and cannot help but smile, despite the environment of the morgue is not one of the happiest.  
"Hello colleague, surely, come in" she responds by placing the folder on a table "do you need something? Last night I left the results of the new analysis for your research on the laboratory table. Did you find them?" she adds, unable to take her eyes off him and his way of walking. It reminds her of the noble elegance of a feline, as well as his sister, but in a different way. If she were to compare the two brothers to felines, she would think of a panther for Irene and a cougar for him.  
"Yes, yes, I found everything when I arrived this morning, thank you very much" Alex approaches with hands in his pocket "I was just wondering if you wanted to take a break and go get a coffee" he adds sitting with an agile movement on a table now free.

"I would not mind at all. Maybe I would even eat something, but Greg and the others are coming and will be here in moments. We could possibly do later," she tells him, intimately pleased with the invitation, even if only for a coffee. Spending time with him in recent months has become a pleasant habit.  
"Well, gone then, a nice breakfast so we can cope well for the rest of the day" Alex replies looking at her with those dark eyes that always cause a certain thrill in her.

At that moment the door opens again and Greg appears, followed by Sherlock and John. Molly greets them all and returns to the table, where the corpse of the second victim is covered by a sheet, taking the folder of his autopsy.

Sherlock, having greeted both Molly and Alex, approaches the table and removed the sheet starts to look closely. With his lens he observes the marks of the nails on the hands, the cut to the abdomen, the signs of the ropes on the arms and legs. Then he takes both hands of the victim and looks carefully at his nails.

"As I imagined" he says standing up.  
"Imagine what exactly?" John asks, while he is reading the autopsy folder.  
"Molly, do you show me the first victim again, please?"

Molly, without saying anything, reopens the cold room and extracts the body of John Nolan. She watches Sherlock stoop to look at the nails of this body and then, when he has finished, she closes it in his temporary resting place.

"The nuances are important John and they are the ones that make you understand the sense of a painting" Sherlock now answers by arranging his magnifying glass in a coat pocket.

"And would you be kind enough to enlighten us or do you want to keep it for yourself?" John asks, looking up at the sky. Sometimes trying to keep up with his friend is not easy. Sherlock's mind always runs fast, too fast for him like Greg. He still did not understand why Sherlock wanted to go through all the pubs around the church of the second murder the night before. He did not ask questions or talk to anyone, barely talked to him. He only looked from every window to the church, watching the street and the swarm of people and cars for half an hour. John has learned over the years that in these moments it is better not to insist and let him reason on his own, so he simply drank beer while his friend looked out into the street. After all, it was not particularly tiring.

"Unfortunately, something is still missing, John, the picture is not complete. The connections between the lives of the two victims are practically almost nil, I found only a nuance, but not enough to clarify everything. I need some more details" Sherlock answers now turning his gaze to Molly and does not miss the smile that she turns to Alex or his smile.

"I have not seen any connection between the lives of the two victims to tell the truth. What do we do now? Are we at a standstill?" Greg asks.  
"At any rate, we are at a good point instead, now we need only the help of Eleonor" Sherlock answers with confidence.  
"And what on earth do you have to do now? It is not a case of minors" John intervenes with a perplexed expression.  
"You're wrong, it's all right, or at least it was. Let's go to her and I will explain everything" he replies, inviting the two to go out.

Greg and John anticipate him and after saying goodbye they come out of the morgue.

Sherlock follows them but before going out he turns to Molly and Alex.  
"I would recommend a delightful restaurant along the Thames for tonight, it's a place that you will certainly enjoy. I send you name and address for text messages," he tells them with a hand on the door.  
"I do not understand, we do not have an appointment tonight, why do you want to send us to this restaurant?" Alex asks with a perplexed and amused expression at the same time. The eccentricity of this man always amuses him.  
"Because it's time for you to have a serious date and have dinner together. It seems to me that you also pulled it long enough for it," Sherlock replies.  
"Look who's talking about pulling it for long," Molly then tells him, but she cannot however blush for the direct words of his friend.  
"Exactly, I speak from experience, I send you the address and the phone, if you call now you can book in time for tonight" he replies again and without saying anything else or waiting for an answer, he comes out from the morgue closing the door behind him.

Alex comes down from the table where he sat, staring at the door still looking amused and realizing what his sister found so special about him. His frankness, by some mistaken for little diplomacy and that others find irritating, is disarming but fascinating at the same time. Then he turns to Molly and smiles at her.  
"Well, are we going to have breakfast? So, when he sends us the number we can also book for tonight" he says smiling with a cheerful and seductive tone and when he sees her blush, he is certain that it will be a pleasant evening.


	9. Chapter 9

**London - Police station - minor section - 22 January 2019 - 12.00 a.m.**  
  
Lieutenant Eleonor Mendoza closes the drawer with case files resolved, after having placed the last completed report. Generally, when you finish a job you feel good, almost satisfied, but not she. A solved case perhaps removes a pedophile from the road, prevents him from doing more harm, but his victims will carry that burden for the rest of their lives. It is almost as if in reality a solved case determines the beginning of a new one, which will have to face the victim to get out of a tunnel that can last years and never see the light.

That's why Eleonor never feels that sense of well-being when closing a case. But she never thought about changing jobs or sectors. Helping those children for her gives meaning to her life. It is not always about abuses to tell the truth. Sometimes they are minors mistreated, or cases like that of organ trafficking in which Miki was involved.

She smiles at the thought of that boy. Perhaps that is the only case solved that has brought her a sense of inner peace. Miki is recovering everything that has lost in the years of imprisonment and seems to have no particular consequences, perhaps thanks to the help of Sherlock, who seems to understand him like no other, but certainly also John, whose big heart warms anyone around him.

At the thought of John, the smile also illuminates her dark eyes, and her face, with an olive complexion and determined features, a legacy of her father's Mexican origin, now softens. John would have loved his father, she is sure. After all, he looks a lot like him, a brave but incredibly romantic and sweet man. And she fell in love almost immediately when she met him. Like her mother, on vacation in Mexico for a month when she was a young English graduate, she fell in love with her father at the time. Perhaps, she thinks, she is not so different from his mother, although she has always believed she is more like Captain Mendoza.

Lost in these thoughts back to the desk and at that moment the door of his office opens. John is the first to enter and his smile now widens.  
"Hey, what are you doing here, do not you have a case to follow with Sherlock?" she asked him, just before she saw the detective enter and behind him Greg "ah, but here you are all then. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" she asks them, now perplexed.

"Hi Eleonor, you have to help us find a pedophile, someone who abused at least two homicide victims about twenty years ago," Sherlock tells her in his direct and sure way, sitting on one side of the desk.  
"Hi darling, do not ask us what he is talking about because we are groping in the dark. In fact, if you can understand something then let us know" John says instead, raising his eyes to the sky while he takes his friend's side.  
"But yes, now that we are all there, I can explain everything to you. Having to explain it several times would have been a waste of time," Sherlock replies, sighing.  
"Ah, thank goodness, I thought you wanted to keep the secret for yourself and bring it to your grave," Greg tells him ironically, standing behind him.

Eleonor shakes her head momentarily. These bickering are now the order of the day among the three friends and sometimes wonders if it is not their favorite game.  
"Okay Sherlock, I listen to you, tell me about these hypothetical abuses of so long ago," she replies, sitting on the other side of the desk.  
"You will have heard about the case of the crucifixions we are dealing with, right?" Sherlock asks.  
"Of course, we do not talk about anything else. Do you mean that in your opinion these victims were abused as children? And from what did you understand?" Eleonor asks intrigued now.  
"Obviously from the way they were killed, but not only. The first important thing to understand is that it was the victims who carried the cross inside the churches and they did it spontaneously, without anyone being forced into them," Sherlock says confidently.  
"And this from what do you deduce it?" Greg asks, perplexed.  
"From the simple fact that both churches are in non-isolated areas, the second is even surrounded by pubs and restaurants that are very popular in the evening. It would have been impossible not to notice a person under threat who carries a cross. Instead a van that unloads a cross to bring into a church is not noticed that much. The victims worked one in a car dealership and the other for a moving company, getting a vehicle was certainly not a problem for them. And certainly, the victims brought it, their nails were partially broken, their fingertips scratched, typical scratches from wood. Molly also found small wooden shards stuck to their fingertips. But this cannot depend on the act of crucifixion because the hands were tied to palms up and nailed" Sherlock talks fast, imagining every moment in his mind.

"All right, I can see that, this could be a valid hypothesis. But from this to the fact that they suffered abuse as you get there?" John asks, still skeptical.  
"Obviously because of the fact that two men who have moved away from religion in a rather drastic way, despite the rather strong religious roots of their families, decide to bring a cross into a church. The only reason they could have done it, was to punish or scare someone. And that someone must probably be a church minister, someone who has both met in a children's oratory and who is now in some way related to both churches," Sherlock continues, looking at his friend who still does not seem convinced.

"It seems a rather risky hypothesis Sherlock. We did not find anything in common between the two victims, "says Greg, shaking his head now.

"Because you never really look and you miss the obvious" Sherlock answers sighing" the first victim is a Catholic family, the second of Anglican family, except the paternal grandfather who was an observant Catholic. An observant Catholic grandfather would certainly have pushed the child to an oratory and to attend catechism. One way as another to keep control of his ideas. I am sure that Eleonor will be able to find an oratory or something similar to both children" Sherlock concludes, now leaning back in his chair and crossed his legs, he looks at the woman in the eyes.

Eleonor listened to every word carefully. Even the clues seem to her to say such a thing. To accuse a priest of pedophilia, as it is now quite common, unfortunately, is never a simple thing, if you do not have real proof. But she rarely saw the detective wrong and if there is even one chance that a man like that has abused children and maybe still does it today, she cannot pretend anything.

"Okay Sherlock, let's do it, since I have no cases for hands now, I investigate deeply on the childhood of these two victims and see if I find anything. I do not promise you anything, but if there's anything, you can be sure I'll find it," Eleonor tells him without looking away from him.

"So, I'm sure you'll find what we need to flush out this monster Eleonor," Sherlock answers, nodding. She is a tenacious and strong woman and he knows that when she decides to follow a track, she can be a more determined hound than he is himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**London - Baker Street - 23 January 2019 - 6.00 p.m.**  
  
The sound of Sherlock's violin fills his living room with the notes of his composition, that he created years ago, when he believed Irene was dead. This piece is what he feels most his. The same piece that he played to his sister Eurus, the first time he saw her in the Sherrinford High Security Prison, where she is still locked up today.  
"Play yourself," Eurus had asked him, and he instinctively played this sometimes poignant composition. Now his state of mind is different then, but this music remains for him the one that most represents the most intimate part of himself.

Miki is listening to him and almost does not breathe, so as not to disturb the moment. Sherlock told him that he too must find his music and that's why he's playing this piece, to make him understand that each of us has a music inside and it's only ours, because it's our deepest heart. Miki can play pretty well, since he started, but he knows it will take time to create such beautiful music. But he wants to learn and he knows he will succeed.

The music ends and Sherlock stays for a few moments with his eyes closed. In the sudden silence, their breaths can hardly be heard. After a while he opens his eyes and puts the violin in his case, closing it again.  
"I think you understand what I mean Miki" he says to him, looking back at him "and when the time is right, you will see that you will find your music too. For now, just try to perfect the technique and feel inside you the music you play. Only in this way will it make sense for you and also for those who listen to it ".

Miki nods and puts his violin in the case, placing it next to Sherlock's. The violin he gave him always leaves him in this house because it is with him that he plays. At John's house he does other things, he studies, plays with Rosie and reads all the books Sherlock continually makes him have.

From the atrium downstairs they hear the door opening and the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs. John and Eleonor enter the living room greeting both.

"Miki pick up your stuff is time to go now" John tells him as he approaches that kid who has won the hearts of all of them. While Miki goes to the kitchen to pick up his backpack, Eleonor approaches Sherlock, pulling out a piece of paper that holds out to him.  
"Then. I did not find anything certain. No oratory or similar attended by both children unfortunately. But I know that your intuition is usually right, so I dug again and found an oratory that by location and area may have attended both the victims, but whose archives have been burned in a fire along with the whole building. In that oratory there was a priest who has now become a bishop and as a bishop has access to both churches of crucifixions. It's not much, maybe just a coincidence and surely you cannot blame anyone with this. But you see, maybe it's a starting point," she says, handing him the sheet with the name of the oratory, his address, the date of the fire and the name of the bishop.

Sherlock takes the paper and looks at it carefully.  
"I knew you would find the necessary. It's very believable," he tells her, placing the paper on the desk.  
"Do you think the bishop has something to do with it?" John asks him, still not convinced, even though the pieces of this puzzle now seem to start taking on a sharper outline.  
"Obviously," Sherlock replies simply.  
Miki is now back from the kitchen with his backpack ready.  
"Mrs. Hudson has promised me some cookies, I'm going to get them so I'll eat them for breakfast tomorrow," he says with a happy smile. Sherlock smiles at him and ruffles his hair with one hand in a gesture of affection now a habit.  
"It seems like a great way to start the day in effect. See you soon Miki," he says, looking at him then out of the living room and down the stairs.  
"I come down too, I think if they advance I'll steal some biscuits from Mrs. Hudson, they are really good," Eleonor says to both them, going to the door and down the stairs.

"She's a smart woman John, you've chosen well this time too" Sherlock tells him with a smile and then moves towards his chair.  
"Yes, it's true, she's really smart. But I think it's more correct to say that she chose me. You know that in reality they are always the ones to choose us and not the other way around, as we often delude ourselves" the friend replies smiling and, even thinking of Mary, now the memory does not make him sad. She will always be part of him even if she is gone.

"I'm absolutely sure of it, my friend," Sherlock replies, sitting down in his chair.

 "Is there anybody?" Alex's voice announces his arrival on the stairs "hi guys, I stole a cookie to Mrs. Hudson, heck they are very good" he says as he enters the living room.  
"Hi Alex, why are you here?" Sherlock asks when he sees him come in and he cannot help noticing all those little details that confirm that the previous night with Molly must have had a pleasant ending for both of them.  
"Molly sends me to tell the truth, she forgot a notebook here and now she needs it. I was on the street and then I do the favor of bringing it to her" he says approaching "by the way, thanks for the suggestion of the restaurant, it was a really pleasant evening" he adds with a captivating and serene smile.  
"I had no doubts. The notebook is there on the desk next to the laptop. Tell Molly also that I added some corrections to some formulas with a red pen," Sherlock says.

Alex nods and approaches the desk, looking through the various sheets scattered around the notebook. He identifies it and is about to take it, but he is suddenly attracted by an open sheet and what he sees written on it.  
"How strange, I knew this place. Why did you mark it here? It’s part of some of your investigation?" He says, taking the sheet that Eleonor had left.

John, who was about to leave, hearing his words, he stops.  
"Yes, indeed. Concerns of cases of murder and time of abuse cases occurred in that oratory. Why did you know it?" Sherlock asks, narrowing his eyes. Alex is too big to have attended him at the time before the fire and he knows that before they lived in an opposite area of the city.

At his words, Alex's expression suddenly changes and his smile disappears. He does not speak for a few minutes and then sits down, continuing to hold that sheet in his hand with an unusual pallor for him.  
"Alex is all right?" John asks, taking a few steps towards him "you suddenly became white as a sheet", he now turns his gaze to Sherlock who in turn has noticed the same thing.  
"You know, when my father died, not my natural one who ran away when I was not yet born, but my mother's second husband, Irene and I were traumatized" Alex begins to speak with an unsteady voice and an almost lost look "I was older, but Irene was ten years old and she loved her father very much. We had little money after his death and our mother did two jobs to keep us. I had after-school and I could not deal with Irene" he stops as if he did not have the courage to continue "for this reason our mother decided to send Irene in an oratory after school. It was the only place where they could look after her without asking for money." He stops, unable to continue, continuing to stare at the paper.

Sherlock closes his eyes feeling a sudden emptiness. John instead after a while approaches Alex and takes the paper from his hands.  
"Alex, the fact that Irene went to that oratory does not necessarily mean that she too ... in short," he cannot say what everyone is thinking now.

"She is changed. After it, she has changed a lot. I always believed that our father's death had a much stronger and more traumatizing next effect. But, I do not know, maybe it was not like that." he looks up now and looks at Sherlock, who is sitting with his eyes closed in his armchair and does not move a muscle.  
"Now what do we do? She never talked to me about anything like that. Maybe it's not true, maybe she does not want to talk about it" he says as if he were looking for help from those who are closer to her now.

"I do not know. I do not know what we have to do. But she's the only person at the moment that maybe could tell us something and help us capture a monster," Sherlock answers in a whisper.

"Sherlock, I do not think it's a good idea. If she too, in short, oh God I cannot even say" John begins to approach his friend "if it is true and she never talked about it, maybe it could be wrong to push her to relive it. Maybe we have to find other ways," John finally tells him.

"Irene is an intelligent woman and she notices the nuances, you should know that. She would notice that something is wrong with the way Alex is looking at her from now on. I may well be able to disguise it, perhaps, but neither you nor Alex would succeed. I prefer to talk to her rather than she understand at some point alone" Sherlock answers, still motionless in the chair with a voice that barely feels "now go please, I'll take care of everything," he added closing his eyes.

"Sherlock, I do not know, maybe it's better to wait," John says again, trying to remove the obvious weight from his friend's shoulders.  
"I said go!" Sherlock almost angrily exclaims "please" then adds in a calmer but decided tone.

Alex cannot say anything. The thought of not being able to protect his sister when they were children is devastating him. Like an automaton, he takes Molly's notebook and without saying anything comes out of the living room, praying that all this is not true and that it's all a mistake.

John still remains for a few moments looking at his friend. Then with a resigned sigh he too goes out. The voice of Miki from below, laughing along with Eleonor, restores him a bit of peace and, trying not to think more about what Sherlock will now have to face, he descends the stairs and reaches them.

In his living room, Sherlock remains motionless in his armchair with his eyes closed. He hears the atrium door open when everyone leaves, he hears Mrs. Hudson come back to her apartment and closes her door, he hears John's car leave, he hears every single noise coming from the street, but the only deafening sound he hears is that of a sudden internal pain, so strong that he would like to scream to get it out. But he does nothing for almost an hour. Only after a time that seems endless, he reopens his eyes, gets up from his chair, takes that sheet, which almost now burns in his hands, folds it into his pocket and leaves the apartment to go to Irene's house.


	11. Chapter 11

**London - Long Thames – 23 January 2019 - 7.00 p.m.**  
  
Working in the center for Rick Morris is the best that can be. It allows him to live during the day in a nice neighborhood, to be able to walk during his break, observing the perfect architecture of the buildings and the elegant shop windows.

Of course, he cannot afford to eat in any of the restaurants around his office. The salary as an administrative employee of a chartered accountant, does not allow him and the school of his teenage son costs a lot, as all his needs.

Fortunately, his wife always prepares him something to take with him, and when it's good weather he takes the opportunity to eat outside on a nice bench in the small park a short walk away.

But today he did not want to eat anything. His stomach was closed and he still feels a particular oppression. Having read all those articles about the murderer of the crucifixes and his victims, made him suddenly change his mood. The names of those men immediately brought him back to the past when he was a naive boy. A past that can never leave behind or forget. When he thinks he has succeeded here, something brings everything back to life and the death in his heart returns to being the master of his life. Immediately he finds himself in that dark room and lacks the air.

Rick stops now along a wall overlooking the river and looks at the water flowing underneath. He would like so much that that water would take away everything that oppresses him from his heart.

He breathes for a long time and closes his eyes. He calms down and at the end when he reopens them he has made his decision.

He must do something and he must do it as soon as possible.


	12. Chapter 12

**London - 44 Eaton Square - 23 January 2019 - 8.00 p.m.**  
  
Irene's atrium is in the dark and her upstairs playroom is closed, but the light filters through the door. Sherlock, after entering the house, looks up, remaining still for a few moments with his hands in his pockets. Most of the time when she is busy with a client, he stays in the living room working on Irene's PC. At other times he goes upstairs and goes into the master bedroom. But sometimes it happens that he stops in the corridor between the rooms to listen. He is not interested in what happens in that room, but he is fascinated by the tones of her voice, by what she says, by how she manages to achieve the total dedication of anyone with words and her mind. After all, her mental domination is what struck him immediately. But tonight, he does not do any of this.

He goes into the living room and, without turning on the lights, he takes the sheet out of his pocket, puts it on the table and, take off his jacket and his shoes, he lays on the sofa. He does not fall asleep, but he remains in that position in the dark, until he hears the door above open. He listens to the steps of Irene and someone else, probably a woman with the sound of heels, who go down the stairs and cross the hall, the front door that opens and closes without a word being heard. Sherlock does not move from his position, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his chest, while Irene approaches the living room. The light in the living room lights up and he closes his eyes, opening them again after a few moments. Irene wears a dressing gown and smiles at him.

"What are you doing here in the dark? You could go upstairs if you wanted to sleep," she tells him as she approaches and sits down on the sofa next to him.  
"It's early to sleep, I just need to think about some things," he says without moving from his position.  
"This case is already draining your energy, I see it," Irene tells him, now seeing the sheet Sherlock has left open on the table. She takes it and reads what is written there without her expression changing.  
"What is this? Does it have to do with the investigation?" She asked, looking back at him.

Sherlock watches her without speaking for a moment, trying to grasp what words do not say, but does not read any particular signal.

"Yes, it's part of the investigation. We believe that the two victims attended that oratory, when they were children" Sherlock stops, something blocks him and he cannot go on. He had not yet told her about his theory of abuse, because they had not seen each other the night before.

"So, it could be a point of contact between the two victims. And the way and the place where they died? Does it make sense with this?" Irene asks, always curious about her investigations, as she tries to find a link.

"Maybe. But we can talk about it tomorrow," Sherlock tells her, taking the paper from her hands to put it back on the table "why do not we eat something now? Or maybe we could eat later and do something else first," he says, reaching out to caress her face.

Irene looks at him with that captivating smile that he really likes. She kisses the palm of his hand and when he draws her towards him, she accompanies his movement until she touches his lips in a sweet sensual long kiss.  
"Come let's go upstairs, we'll think about eating later, now I have other appetites" she whispers to him, before getting up and after taking him by the hand, she takes him to what is now their room.

During the night Sherlock wakes up, blinking his eyes several times. He still has her scent on him and mentions a smile, looking back at the previous hours. This time it was different, he knows. He was different, he slowed down everything, expanded the time, the sweetness took the place of the passion and was an equally exciting feeling. He turns into bed and realizes that Irene is not there. He stands on one elbow and sees that no light comes from the corridor, not even from the open door of the bathroom. Then he gets up and wears pajama pants, barefoot he walks out of the room. From the bottom floor he sees the light of the living room on. Without making any noise, he descends the stairs and stops in front of the door.

Irene is wearing a nightgown and is sitting curled up on the couch. The knees are folded up and she hugs them as if in a fetal position. The eyes fix that open sheet on the table in front of her. Sherlock looks at her and sees now what he would not want to see. Silently he approaches without saying anything and sits at her side.

Irene turns her gaze on him and for a moment she stops being the self-confident woman, the dominatrix who controls everything and everyone.  
"You know it, do not you? Is that why you brought this paper and did not say anything? Is that why you've been like this ... different tonight?" She asks, looking at him.

Sherlock says nothing, looks at her and nods.

"I did not remember Sherlock. I did not remember it. It was somewhere inside of me, but I did not remember it. I woke up suddenly and it all came back to me, as if I had woken up from a deep sleep that lasted years. That name, him, the bishop. He was not a bishop then, dressed in black, he had to be a simple priest, that name made me remember everything. But it is tremendous to remember Sherlock, tremendous" Irene's voice is a whisper and sometimes cracked.

Sherlock does not speak, words would be useless right now. He hugs her tightly to him until she responds to his embrace, hiding her face in his neck. Sherlock feels her tears wet his neck but are silent, dignified tears, those of a woman who reacted with her own way, taking control of everything and anyone around her, at an event that can devastate life of anyone.  
"I'll take that monster Irene, I'll take him and believe me, he will regret bitterly what he did" are the only words that he says, continuing to tighten her.

It's since the previous night that Sherlock is in Irene's house. He did not want to leave, even though she has perfectly regained control of herself, as always. Or at least apparently so it seems. Now that it is almost four o'clock in the afternoon, he is sitting at the desk in the living room, checking all the news concerning Bishop Julian Murray. Originally from Ireland, then from a Catholic family, the young Julian moved with his father to London after his mother died. No brother or sister. His father, a lawyer, had never managed to open his own business, but he had never let his son fail. Julian studied at a private Jesuit school and just over a boy had already started the seminar. Once the votes were taken, he was in various towns in the province of London. As if he did not have a fixed abode he moved, or was moved, with a certain frequency. At the age of thirty-five he was in London and ran the oratory that Irene and the two victims frequented.

Irene does not remember the names of the two victims, or at least she is not sure. But remember instead the name of Rick Morris, who in the late morning called her. According to what he said by telephone, Rick had been contacted by Jim Nolan, the first victim. Jim wanted to force Bishop Murray to confess. The cross was meant to scare him, threaten him if he had not confessed. This was the plan Jim had proposed to him but he had not accepted. Rick did not want to have anything to do with that past. He just wanted to forget it. The death of both Jim and Roland Walker, the second victim, had convinced him to do something. And he had a good memory, he remembered Irene well. She was one of the few little girls in the oratory and her name lately, along with that of Sherlock, was everywhere. That's why he had called her and now he would have arrived in moments.

Irene talked little for the whole day. She refused all the appointments of the day and spent most of the time working on the tablet and checking her site. Now, sitting comfortably on the sofa with her legs stretched out and her back resting on an armrest, she looks at Sherlock, absorbed in front of the laptop. That man, as always, seems to understand her deeply. Her pride never allows her to appear weak, and perhaps now she understands why. But Sherlock understood that while not asking, she needed his silent presence in these hours. The intercom announces the arrival of Rick Morris and Irene gets up to go and open. Rick told her he wanted to help them frame that monster and that maybe there was a way. And if there is a way she will not certainly pull back, this is the only certainty she has right now.


	13. Chapter 13

**London - Holy Ghost and Stephen Church - 24 January 2019 - 9.00 p.m.**  
  
The Shepherd's Bush neighborhood at this time of evening is not very busy. The shops are now closed and the area is purely residential. The pungent cold of this late January London, pushes people to stay at home, contrary to what happens during the summer months when the triangular park of about three hectares Shepherd's Bush Green, located in the center of the district, becomes the destination of almost all the residents of the area.

Bishop Julian Murray leaves the sacristy of the church going towards the central altar, essential in his early twentieth century Gothic style. He does not particularly like this place, perhaps too thin and simple for his tastes. It seems to him that it does not honor the greatness and power of God with such miserable furnishings. But these are thoughts that he keeps for themselves, like so many others. His ambition always made him well conceal his deepest soul. Bishop Murray has a reputation as a humble churchman and only interested in helping the most needy. And keeping this perfect mask is now preparing to rise even more in the ecclesiastical hierarchy. That's why he agreed to come to this church tonight. He cannot allow anything or anyone to impede him in his ascent, less than ever to that woman. Of course, it was a surprise to hear her. He did not believe she remembered him, or even if she remembered it, given the kind of life she had, he thought it had no more importance what had happened in that oratory so many years before. At the memory of those moments on his flaccid face, like his whole body, a languid smile appears. He believed he had been careful not to be recognized in the darkness of the room where confessions took place, but that child evidently was more alert than he thought. Now, sitting on one of the choir benches at the side of the altar, he observes that empty cross. It is evident that the woman tries to scare him but a man like him does not easily get scared and threaten him it is useless.

The door at the back of the church opens and when he turns he sees Irene Adler enter. In absolute silence her heels resonate like gunshots. She walks slowly, without haste, with her innate and feline elegance.

Bishop Murray watches her carefully. She has changed a lot since he first saw her in the oratory. Her gaze at the time was innocent and tinged with an intimate melancholy at the death of her father. That look made his body vibrate deep inside. The gaze of now instead is proud, without fear, a look of challenge, that same look that noticed in her the last days that he saw her, after everything had happened.

"Then Miss Adler, I agreed to talk to you because I know you are a lost soul and my duty is to welcome anyone into God's house, but I would be curious to know what you want from me, I do not think you still need to ... confess" the voice of the bishop is as slim as his expression at this time. He wants to hit her with words, make her lose that air so sure.

Irene stops a few steps from him and just leans her head. A smile appears on her lips between the ironic and the mischievous.  
"I have nothing to confess, and in general I listen to confessions. Men and women seem to love telling me all their innermost desires and secrets and then ask to be punished and forgiven for being at peace with themselves" Irene speaks to the altar where the empty cross, that Rick has brought a few hours before, is placed. Her hands are tucked into her coat and her tone is calm and warm.

The bishop nods at her words. He had forgotten that the woman in front of him is accustomed to leading the game and it is difficult to intimidate her, in fact it is generally the opposite.

"Okay, so I listen to you Miss Adler, why are we here and what is the cross for? It will not be to scare me, isn’t it?"

Irene turns back to the bishop who remains seated on the bench clearly at ease and sure of himself.  
"No, I do not think I can scare you, not alone at least, but maybe if we are many, the result could be different" she always says smiling and at that moment other steps are heard.

Rick enters the church and reaches the center approaching the altar. Irene looks at him and wonders if the plan will work. Rick explained his idea in detail only when Sherlock had left them alone and asked her not to tell him anything. They had to deal with just the two of them with that monster.

"Good evening, Bishop Murray. I wonder if you remember me, I'm Rick Morris, I used to go to that damn oratory when I was little more than a kid". Rick talks until he reaches Irene and stands by her side.  
"Rick, I think I remember you, you were in the same class of Jim and Roland if I'm not mistaken," the bishop replies, squinting slightly puzzled.  
"Yes, yes, I see you has a good memory after all" Rick answers, whose eyes now shine with a light full of pain and mad rage.  
"You see, Bishop Murray, like me and Rick there will be others, something tells me that you have not stopped with your "confessions" and if we start talking, I am sure that others will want to do it. For you this is now only the beginning of the end" Irene speaks with a sharp voice and her fierce look almost makes the bishop tremble.

"But what are you talking about, it's stupid, I've never "confessed" Rick and not even Jim and Roland for that matter. You are totally mistaken", the bishop replied, who now recovered from the surprise.

"Do not mind please, do not offend my intelligence," Irene tells him.  
"I'm not lying at all" the bishop exclaims and when he sees Rick take a gun from his pocket, his eyes change in a flash and the fear makes its way suddenly.

Irene turns to see that gun flattened against the bishop.

"What are you doing? These were not the pacts, we just had to face him and force him to confess" Irene tells him calmly "put that gun down, killing him will not do anything now" she adds with firm tone.  
"I know, I know that I do not need to kill him, in fact I do not care to kill him" Rick has a tone of voice now and turning now pointing the gun toward Irene “to kill him will not make us better, we must cleanse, we must cleanse this disgusting that he did to us and that's been stuck on us all along... and that's the only way," he tells her with shining eyes of madness, pointing to the cross behind her.

Irene watches him carefully and does not move a muscle. She does not seem to be afraid, but on the contrary she seems almost to feel pity for this man devastated in his soul.  
"Rick, lower that gun, we have nothing to shame us, it was not our fault and it will never be" she speaks to him with her calm and determined voice, warm and at the same time authoritarian that is part of her nature.

Bishop Murray observes the scene without moving or saying a word. He is only now beginning to understand that Rick is perhaps the killer of the crosses. He was convinced that was another person and for this reason he felt sure to accept this appointment.

"No, you do not understand" Rick exclaims moving steps towards her, forcing her to back towards the cross "now we are branded and we will be alive, we must purify ourselves and now it's your turn, you're the last cross before mine, just so we will be able to have peace, believe me" Rick's voice cracks for a moment "you were such a sweet child, you know I remember you, but he changed you and now I just want to give you that purity back then" he says, pointing toward her the gun.

Irene hears the cross behind her, out of the corner of her eye she sees the bishop still motionless on the bench, waiting perhaps the right time to escape and certainly would not warn anyone, not before she had the same fate of the other two.

"Come on Irene, please, get on that cross now, you'll see that later you'll feel better, it will be a liberation from everything," Rick tells her, taking the strings he had brought along with the cross from the ground.

"Irene will not do any of this and does not need any purification, Rick" A sudden voice behind the man makes him turn suddenly.

In front of him a few steps away there is Sherlock, who looks at him with the same eyes as Irene, as if he had mercy on him.

"For a moment I thought you would not be here anymore," Irene says with a sigh of relief now.  
"I was just waiting for the right moment," Sherlock answers, reaching out to take the gun from Rick's hands, without the man having any reaction.

Rick now seems only tired and relieved that someone has stopped him. Of course, Irene had reported everything to Sherlock, because she had noticed his gaze when Rick had entered the house. There was something that did not convince him and she learned to always trust his instincts.

Sherlock had not thought for a moment that the killer of the crosses was the bishop. It was not in the nature of a pedophile to get to those extremes. The ritual recalled too much the deep meaning of a crucifixion, its purification, its washing the sins of the world. Sherlock takes the handcuffs from a pocket, settling the gun in his belt, and taken for one arm Rick leads him to the back, where a gate separates the church from the sacristy, to which he then binds him. Now he seems almost apathetic and harmless. He turns back then to the altar, where Irene is now again in front of the bishop, whose face is back to have a normal color.

"Well, all is well that ends well," the bishop says with some relief looking at both.  
"Bishop Murray is not yet finished, I have already told you that this will be the beginning of your end," Irene tells him in a sharper voice than before.

Sherlock, now by her side, looks at the man and feels a rage inside him that he struggles to hold back.

"Come on, Irene, you're good, you cannot do anything. As I told you, believe me is the truth, I have nothing to do with what happened to Rick, Jim and Roland. About you... well... let me remind you that anything you can say... it will always be the word of a prostitute against that of an esteemed bishop... you cannot do anything and I will continue to live my life as I have always lived" the bishop answers with a certainty in his voice and a presumption that now reflects his true soul.

Sherlock feels the hatred and horror of that monster climbing up to his brain and taking the gun from the waist now squeezes it spasmodically in his hand.

Irene seems impassive, as if those words did not hit her at all. She turns to Sherlock and reaches for him.  
"Stop, do not worry, do not do anything," she says, taking the gun from his hands.  
"I want to stop him," Sherlock replies with an angry voice, but lets her take the gun.

The bishop, who for a moment had feared he had exaggerated, now relaxes again. He did not think the detective had those impulses.

"Good Irene, I see that you can reason your man, now excuse me but I have to do" he says starting to get up.

Irene does not even look at him and hardly listens to him. She smiles at Sherlock and looks at him for a few moments before speaking.  
"You do not have to stop him, Mycroft cannot save you from a third homicide charge" she simply tells him and without further adding, she turns to the bishop, points the gun and shoots him on the head with extreme coldness.

The expression of Julian Murray in those seconds, before the bullet kills him, is that of a man surprised and terrified to realize that his victim has now become his executioner. He falls sprawled on the choir bench, pouring out in front of him and remaining on his knees.

Irene looks at him, looks at the blood dripping from that temple, his eyes wide, his face and his lips flaccid half-open and she feels nothing, no emotion, if not that of relief in knowing that he can no longer hurt anyone.

She turns to Sherlock who has not made a sound and sees her own thoughts in his eyes.  
"I could not allow you, Sherlock, I had to do it," she says with a sigh.  
"I know, I understood that. But now we have to go. I'll warn Greg when you're far away," he says with a weight in his heart now.  
"I will not go anywhere Sherlock, I'm not going to run away yet, I've lived as a fugitive for too long and if I flee no one will believe my words and not even yours," she says resolutely.  
"Irene we have no proof, it's just your word, and anyway it's a murder, you'll end up in jail and for who knows how long, I do not know if I'll be able to get Mycroft to intervene, even in your favor"  
"I tell you I do not run away, it will be what it will be and I do not want you to do anything" Irene's tone does not admit replies and he knows it.

Sherlock sighs, taking her free hand.  
"All right, let's do as you say, but I want you to listen to me carefully, we have to do something before calling Greg"


	14. Chapter 14

**London - police station - homicide section - 25 January 2019 - 3.00 p.m.**  
  
Greg Lestrade does not remember ever seeing them all in his office. Sitting at the desk with his chin resting on his hands, he observes Irene Adler's arrest report for the hundredth time and finds nothing out of place, no mistakes, no quirks to cling to. Not that he usually wants mistakes to happen that then defeat the arrests, but this time it's different.

He looks up at Sherlock, who stands in front of the window, hands in his pockets, he does not say a word since he is there.

John, sitting on the other side of the desk, drumming with his hands on the arm of the chair. Eleonor sitting next to him sometimes worried looks at him.

Alex paces back and forth and Greg has never seen him so far since he knows him, he has not even shaved and his clothes are crumpled. Molly, sitting on the couch, occasionally calls him to herself in an attempt to calm him down, but after a while Alex gets up again and starts walking again.

Mycroft, instead, is seated on a chair behind Sherlock and looks at his brother with a worried look.

Only Mrs. Hudson there isn’t in his office now, because she stayed at John's house with Rosie and Miki.

"Sherlock believe me, I cannot do anything, I have my hands tied this time, I cannot intervene," Greg hears Mycroft saying, while he keeps talking to his brother, even though Sherlock gives him his back.  
"I'm not asking you to intervene, I need only one thing in your possession," Sherlock tells him without turning around.  
"And I cannot take it or give it to you. That list is secret and they would immediately realize that I took it. Whatever you want to do with that list, would be discovered immediately and, anyway, I'm wary of you doing something stupid and reckless brother," Mycroft replies.  
"Are you asking me to stay still and watch while she is in jail for who knows how many years without doing anything?" Sherlock's voice is barely a whisper.

John looks at his friend who keeps staring at the window and gets up now going near him.  
"Sherlock, we have to find her a good lawyer and have faith in justice," John tells him.  
"She shot a bishop, justice cannot do anything but condemn her, John" Sherlock answers, turning now to his friend "anyway we start with finding a good lawyer you're right" he says with a slight smile. Then he turns to his brother and looks at him.  
"At least find a good lawyer that you can do it?" He asks with a sigh without particular resentment. He knew after all that he could not do that much.

"Obviously yes, I immediately start riding," Mycroft replied, relieved to see that his brother seems to have convinced himself not to be foolish. He picks up the phone, he goes out into the corridor and dials his office number to get in touch with the best studio in the city.

"I would like to help you, my friend" Greg tells him now "but I do not know how to do it. If we do not give a valid and credible reason why Irene shot, I cannot do anything. The public prosecutor seems to have taken he bone and does not want to give it up," he adds, closing the report before him.

Sherlock looks at him and everyone else.  
"You do not have to do anything and you cannot do anything, none of you. The best we can do now is get the best defense possible" he says going to the door after taking his coat "now excuse me I have to do things" he adds and without saying anything else, he goes out into the corridor and disappears at the sight of everyone.

Eleonor gets up from his chair and approaches John, who is still looking towards the open door.  
"Is there anything we can do to help him, John?" she asks, even if her concern is John at the moment, who seems anxious perhaps even more than Sherlock himself.

"No, Eleonor. When he is in this mood and is isolated, there is nothing to do unfortunately. We can only be present when he needs us. That's how it works with him... and with her too" John replies, realizing that he's worried about his friend but also about Irene. At the end of the day, he is also fond of her during this period and would like to protect both of them, even though he knows that neither of them really needs it.


	15. Chapter 15

**London - Royal Courts of Justice - 18 February 2019 - 9.00 a.m.**  
  
The large building, commonly called the Law Courts, is imposing and majestic enough to inspire awe and fear of anyone passing through it. Sherlock climbs the stairs to the entrance with John on one side and Miki on the other. It was not possible to prevent that stubborn kid from coming to the beginning of the trial. He stated that he wanted to be present and Irene had to know that all of them were there, so he too. If they had not brought him, he would have found a way to come alone, Sherlock was sure. After all, he would have done the same, so he agreed, but with the promise that Miki would come out of the courtroom at a sign of him. Miki has promised and knows that he will keep his word.

Arrived in the large atrium, Sherlock looks up. Above the highest point of the upper vault there is Jesus, while on the left and on the right, on a lower level, the figures of Solomon and Alfredo the Great appear. It reminds him of that Christmas present, the medal that he always wears under his shirt, locked up in a box with that particular knot of Solomon, that he still keeps in a drawer. Then he looks down at Miki, who is watching him. He just smiles at him and puts a hand on his shoulder.  
"Come on let's go, soon everyone will arrive in the courtroom and we have to be there" he says, starting with him and John along the corridor.  
"Everything will be fine, Sherlock, you'll see that everything will be fine," John tells him, without believing in it too much. The evidence against Irene is overwhelming and she has never denied shooting. The lawyer did not give them much hope. Sherlock is also the main witness that the public prosecutor wants to exploit and he hopes that his friend not to get into trouble to help her.

"It must be fine, there are no other alternatives John," his friend replies, with such a determined tone that he is worried about what he has to do if he gets hurt.

The courtroom, when they enter, is already packed. The case obviously had a great deal of emphasis and the newspapers have done nothing but talk about this process for a month now. Journalists of all newspapers and tabloids are present along with television photographers and commentators. A national limelight process that will be broadcast live on major TV channels.

As soon as Sherlock enters, the murmur suddenly subsides and only the photographers’ crazy flashes can be heard. Without leaving Miki's shoulder, Sherlock proceeds to the courtroom until he reaches the first places where Molly, Alex, Eleonor and Mrs. Hudson are already seated.

It does not take long for the murmur to resume, then fade back before the entrance of the jury and then when the policemen bring Irene into the courtroom.

Everyone now looks at her, they admire her always proud bearing, her impeccable dress, of an immaculate white, that she wears not as a defense but almost as a challenge. She does not look at anyone, nor the journalists or the cameras that are framing her, nor the public prosecutor, who is preparing to grab her prey, nor her pugnacious and competent lawyer, but only resigned to getting as little as possible, after she and Sherlock categorically refused any plea bargain. She looks only at that front row, she puts her eyes on her brother, John and the others, she mentions a smile to Miki and then fixes her eyes on those of Sherlock.

For a long time, they look at each other as if they were communicating something that only the two of them can understand. Only the entry of the judge distracts them and the process of the year begins.

"I call Mr. Sherlock Holmes as the first witness," the prosecutor announces, after the trial has started and the case has been presented by prosecution and defense.

Sherlock gets up and without hesitation goes to the witness stand. He takes his oath and waits for the prosecutor to start, looking at him with a serene and not intimidated look.  
"Mr. Holmes I want to get right to the point" the lawyer starts.  
"I would be grateful to you, I do not like waste of time," Sherlock replies, causing the audience to immediately laugh.

John rolls his eyes in the hope that he will be able to stop himself from exaggerating as usual.

Irene remains impassive but with her eyes it is as if she were smiling.

"Mr. Holmes, please. We know your intemperance, but I would ask you to answer only questions without further comments" the judge intervenes.

Sherlock nods and returns to look at the lawyer, who continues to have a triumphant attitude and the confidence of those who already feel the victory in their pockets.  
"So Mr. Holmes, we know you was present when Irene Adler, the defendant, shot and killed Bishop Julian Murray. What I want to ask you, is to confirm that there was no obvious danger that could push Miss Adler to shoot in self-defense" the prosecutor approaches and now looks at Sherlock, who silently observes him.

The silence of the courtroom at this moment makes it even more evident that Sherlock does not answer.

"Mr. Holmes, I realize that the nature of your relationship creates problems, but I remember that you are under oath, so answer the question I asked" the lawyer adds and when Sherlock still does not answer he turns to the judge.

"Mr. Holmes, if you do not answer, I'll have to make you arrest, do not let me get this, please" the judge intervenes.

At this point Sherlock turns to the judge and a light smile curls his lips.  
"It's not that I do not want to answer, but I simply cannot" he says in a serene, almost angelic tone.  
"In what sense you cannot, what prevents it?" The judge asks again.  
"The law is, the law prevents me" Sherlock answers.

John remotely looks at him and recognizes that look, that of those who are starting to discover his winning cards.  
"Judge please intervene. Clearly, Sherlock Holmes is making fun of us and it is not the first time" the prosecutor starts to get impatient while the buzz begins to be greater in the courtroom.  
"Lawyer calm down, it's not you who has to tell me what to do," the judge silences him, before returning to look at Sherlock.  
"Mr. Holmes I ask you to be less sibylline and explain what you mean, please" the judge tells him.

Sherlock nods and pulls out a sheet from the inside pocket of his jacket. It looks like a certificate or something like that and hands it to the judge.

"I was saying that it is the law that prevents me. Precisely that article that states that you should not answer questions that could lead to incriminating your spouse," Sherlock says serenely, while the whole room now seems to explode with comments, flashes, pens that go crazy on notebooks, rumors that record.

John and everyone else are literally speechless.  
"But that... but I cannot believe it" John succeeds only to whisper, surprised as everyone.

The prosecutor is approaching like a thunderbolt to see the marriage certificate that the judge, after checking, is now giving him.

"Did you get married on the day of the murder?" The lawyer asks, in a voice perhaps higher than he should.  
"Really? Oh, I forgot, there are things that I tend to forget, obviously," Sherlock replies with an ironic, amused tone, provoking the laughter of the whole room again.  
"Judge, Mr. Holmes makes fun of us. This marriage cannot be considered valid. It clearly happened to allow him not to testify against the defendant. It's just cunning," the prosecutor says vehemently.

"I would not call it cunning. We knew we could not see each other for a long time. I would rather call it an act of love. Well, then accidentally prevents me from testifying but it's not my fault, I'm not the lawyer" Sherlock answers, unperturbed with the same ironic tone and for a moment now he looks at Irene, who smiles in the same way.

"Attorney, this marriage cannot be annulled by anyone" the judge intervenes "even my twelve-year-old nephew knows of the relationship between Mr. Holmes and the defendant... and she will go to stock jujube when she knows that they are married. So, if you want, you can ask the witness questions but nothing that can lead Mr. Holmes to indict his wife" the judge ends and with a tone that does not allow replies.

The prosecutor now looks almost hating Sherlock and nodding admits the momentary defeat.  
"I have no other questions" he says, returning to his seat.  
"Well, does the defense lawyer want to ask the witness questions?" The judge asks now.

Irene's lawyer stands up and approaches. Sherlock, without telling him of the existence of the marriage, had instructed him to ask him a specific question.  
"Yes, I have a simple question for the witness" he approaches Sherlock and, even though he is not convinced at all, he is preparing to please the detective.  
"Mr. Holmes, I'm just asking you to tell us why you think the defendant fired at Bishop Murray".

Sherlock, even before the lawyer spoke, beckoned to Miki, and only when he saw him come out of the courtroom did he answer.  
"She shot to defend other girls from the abuses that the bishop habitually did and that she had suffered from him when she was just ten years old" Sherlock answers and the murmur now becomes a real commotion. The news of the abuse is in fact an absolute novelty, because they had made sure not to leak it. The killer of the crosses, as the newspapers now call Rick Morris, has entered into a total catatonic state and therefore nothing was known about the motive that had pushed him to kill.

Eleonor and Greg had actually insisted on making known the truth, but Sherlock and Irene had been adamant. They did not have to know. And now both Eleonor and Greg, as well as John, understand why. In almost a month the news on the case has grown so much that the courtroom is overflowing with the public and journalists, and there is not a newspaper now, printed, online, blog, news that will not give the news of the accusation aimed at the bishop. But John does not understand how this can help Irene. At most it can create extenuating circumstances, but this could happen even if they said it right away. It is clear that the friend has something different in mind.

"Judge, the witness is trying to tarnish the murder victim who cannot defend himself now. There is no evidence on this, I ask that the testimony is canceled" the prosecutor intervenes vehemently, knowing that the damage is done because the news will be already everywhere.

"It's true, there is only my word and that of Irene, but I am sure there are other women, girls once, or other mothers, who have noticed something strange in their daughters. And I am sure that, among them, there will also be those who will now have the courage to speak. Irene could have escaped and did not. It is a sacrifice that deserves an act of courage, on the part of other victims like her of that monster... and also of other monsters, because the same fate happened to Rick Morris and the two victims of crucifixions, but not by the bishop. Pedophiles hardly abuse both sexes, they have a preference, so there is someone else that we must stop and only with the complaint of many we can stop them" Sherlock speaks all in one breath quickly thus preventing both attorney lawyer and to the judge, to stop him.

John now understands what his goal was, to get that message to as many people as possible and only then could it be done. He does not know if all this can really help Irene, but he understands that their priority at this time is to stop those monsters still on the loose. They are both hounds and do not give up their prey until they have taken it, no matter what the cost.


	16. Chapter 16

**London - Royal Courts of Justice - 25 February 2019 - 10.00 a.m.**  
  
In the last week after that first hearing, national newspapers and TV did nothing but talk about the trial and accusations made by Irene and Sherlock. The case broke out, deflagrated to such an extent that other victims began to report abuse. Men and women who had attended that oratory, but also others, and the names of other priests came to the surface. So Eleonor began to rebuild a real network of pedophiles that has since continued to operate with the same schemes. Some comrades of Rick Morris, Jim Nolan and Roland Walker managed to identify two priests who, with the Bishop Murray, routinely abused the children of that oratory and had never stopped doing so. Other women of the age of Irene, but some even much younger, have confirmed the accusation against the bishop and everywhere, in the public opinion, Irene is now seen with different eyes.

Today is the day of the verdict, because the trial, given the clamor, was fast and the hearings were held every day. The jurors are now closed almost twenty-four hours to make their decision, the one that could totally change the life of Irene like that of Sherlock. All of them are out in the corridors and the jury announced that they have reached a verdict.

John is sitting on a bench with Eleonor. Mrs. Hudson on another with Greg Molly and Alex, whose concern over the last month has made him lose weight. Mycroft has just arrived and his impassive glance of ice does not leak anything, even if John knows that, as always, he is worried about his brother and what reactions he will have if, as everyone is afraid, there will be a sentence of condemnation.

Sherlock is looking out a window, watching his fans and those of Irene, who await the verdict outside the court, waving placards in favor of her and against pedophiles. Some signs make him smile for a moment, like the one "Irene Adler is my new Queen".

Miki is by his side and after a while he looks up at Sherlock. The boy is worried, he does not want Irene to remain in prison and cannot see her anymore. Since she is locked up he has not seen Sherlock smile and he is missing too. He misses her own way of smiling at him and her voice calm and sure when she speaks to him.

Sherlock looks down at him and intuits his thoughts.  
"Everything will be fine Miki, she will be back soon to stay with us," he says, ruffling his hair.  
"And if they do not want to get her back home?" Miki asks, looking at him seriously with that intense gaze that distinguishes him.

"Trust me, Miki, she'll be home very soon, you'll see," Sherlock replies, putting an arm around his shoulders. Miki nods, he always believes in Sherlock and without saying anything else, he hugs him tightly.

John watches them and for a moment he smiles. Whatever happens, the presence of Miki in Sherlock's life is a strong anchor of salvation. The courtroom is opened and Irene's lawyer's assistant informs them that the jury is returning. After a while the courtroom fills up and everyone takes their place. Now there seem to be more people than there were at the first hearing and more journalists and cameras of all the other days.

The jury has all returned and Sherlock watches them one by one, as if to understand what they have decided. Nothing glows from his gaze as well as Irene's. The two cross their eyes for a moment, until the judge arrives.

The murmur is deafening and the judge almost struggles to ask for silence. He then addresses the jury asking them if they have reached a verdict.  
"Yes, Judge", a woman answers, handing the sheet, which is then taken to the judge, who opens it and after reading it, he nods.  
"Well, the jury unanimously declared the defendant Irene Adler not guilty" he declares loudly and does not understand whether he is surprised or not, nor is he pleased.

The courtroom explodes and a part of the audience applauds the verdict of innocence as almost all of them are in the front row.

Alex is hiding his face in his hands and the emotion is so strong that almost burst into tears. Molly hugs him with some relief, because she was beginning to be seriously worried about him.

Eleonor and Greg try not to have reactions, being policemen anyway, but both are happy with the verdict.

John smiles happily and observes Sherlock who has not had any particular reaction. He stands there and looks at Irene. Both have neither rejoiced nor reacted, they simply look at each other with a smile that John recognizes in them, the one of those who won knowing they would win.

"It means that she comes home, right?" Miki asks.  
"Yes Miki, it means that soon she will be with us again, I told you it would be like that" Sherlock replies and finally a smile now appears on his face.


	17. Chapter 17

**London - home of John Watson - 25 February 2019 - 1.30 pm**  
  
When the hustle and bustle in the courtroom ended in the morning and Irene was taken away, all of them, at Sherlock's request, left the court. He knew it would take hours before the actual release, and he also knew that Irene, like him, wanted to avoid the journalists, who would wait to talk to her. He then asked Mycroft to organize her release, so as to avoid the crowd of photographers and questions that now was not the time to deal with.

That's why they are waiting for her at John's house, because Baker Street as Irene's house is currently the places where the press is waiting for them. Mrs. Hudson is in the kitchen with Eleonor and is preparing lunch and her famous cookies, showing her personal recipe, while Molly is feeding Rosie sitting on her high chair. Alex has resumed color and now has a well-groomed appearance, as usual, and also appetite, because he tasted everything cooked until then. John and Miki in the living room are finishing preparing the table and Sherlock talks on the phone with his brother.

"Yes, Mycroft thank you, I know how much it cost you to do it, but the less we talk to the press, the better it is for you," he says with an ironic smile.  
"Sherlock I knew you would do something inconsiderate, but how you managed to get that list and organize all this, I will never understand it and I hope nobody ever understands it, for the good of us all" Mycroft answers with a clear tone of cold reproach.  
"Do not worry, brother, that list does not exist anymore and nobody, apart from us two, Irene and who gave it to me, knows its existence. So, relax and now I'm sorry but she's coming" he replies and without waiting he closes the phone, then placing it on a shelf.

Miki went to the kitchen and John now looks at his friend.  
"So, do you want to tell me how you did it or should it remain a secret?" He asks, approaching in a way that no one from the kitchen listens to them.

Sherlock looks at him and knows that John will not give up the bone until he tells it to him.  
"Did you not think that I would have let any jury decide about her life?" He replies amused and when he sees the perplexed gaze of his friend he continues "I asked Mycroft to get me the list of customers of Irene, who was in his papers, but he could not give it to me. They had requisitioned everything from her house to her arrest and so I had no way to have other contacts that anyway, apart from me, nobody could see, because they are in a file encrypted and hidden in a pen drive that apparently looks like a simple pin. I then remembered that at last year's ceremony, that of the value medal for the Evans case, I had identified a number of her clients in the hall and among them there was a defense official, who could have access to that list. I convinced him that for his own good it was better for me to have it, and when he brought it to me, I identified a number of her clients, men and women of lesser importance. I met them all and I chose among them those who most esteemed esteem and adoration for Irene. I then found among her clients also those who could make sure that they were to receive the call to present themselves as jurors. Instructing them to make the prosecutors choose them was a breeze. That prosecutor is a real idiot."

Sherlock speaks in one breath, telling how he had made sure he had a sentence of innocence, even though Irene had asked him not to intervene. But he could not risk it, he did not want to risk it.

John looks at him and shakes his head. He should have known that he would not be content to hope that everything went well.

"You're a demon, Irene is right, but you know, I'm glad you're in this way" he says giggling "but, tell me, now have I call her Mrs. Holmes?" He still asks with amusement.

"I would strongly advise you not to do it, if you want to stay alive or at least whole, you know she's a dangerous woman" Sherlock replies, with the same ironic tone of him, just before Miki comes back from the kitchen.

At that moment the bell rings and John, still giggling, moves away to go and open. Miki approaches Sherlock and stands by his side. He insisted on dressing up with a suit too, he wanted to be elegant and no one could make him change his mind. Sherlock looks at him and wonders if his stubbornness is a consequence of his influence or that of Irene, even if Miki has shown immediately to have as innate the determination. Now, one next to the other, they look like two drops of water, apart from the color of the hair and the shirt, because Sherlock wears a dark purple, which Irene really likes, while Miki wears a white one.

Irene enters at that moment, followed by John and Greg, who after saying goodbye leaves all four of them in the living room going to the kitchen. Irene wears the white dress of the first hearing again, and though she is always perfectly cared for, her face is clearly tired, now that it's all over. Obviously on the first day of the hearing, when she entered the courtroom, after seeing that the entire jury were her clients, and that no one, apart from her, could have known, she had the certainty of a verdict of innocence and also that Sherlock had not been stationary, as she had asked him. In those minutes when they had looked at each other for a long time, she had scolded him and thanked him at the same time.

Now she looks at both of them and after a while a smile escapes her, the first in a long time.  
"Well, I have to say that you are the nicest reception committee, Senior and Junior," she says with an ironic but serene tone.  
"It was his request. You know that when he puts in his head something, he is stubborn as a mule" Sherlock answers with the same amused tone.

Miki finally sees both of them smiling and this makes him happy. It also amuses him as she called them now.  
"I'm glad you're with us again," Miki tells her, smiling.  
"I am too, believe me" she answers as she approaches both.

Sherlock reaches out to hold Irene's. He would like to kiss her now, take her away immediately, but he knows there will be time for all this. He then puts an arm around her shoulders and hugs her, kissing her forehead.  
"Welcome back" he tells her breathing his scent.

Irene does not answer but sighs, because almost than a month in jail was not a walk, even if she never gave a second to despair, as it is in her nature. But now she feels the need to relax for a moment and let go even for a few seconds that force that distinguishes her and that has allowed her to overcome unjust abuses, like all the other difficulties of her life.

"Come here" she says only stretching her hand towards Miki and hugs him between them, as she had never done until now.

John looks at them without speaking. Eleonor arrives from the kitchen and after observing them she clings to John.  
"They are more similar to each other than I thought" she says in a whisper.  
"Yes, it's true, I do not know if this is good, but it certainly binds them in a special way" John answers, smiling.  
"But you're always there to keep an eye on them and make sure they do not explode, none of them," she says with a slight kiss.  
"Yes, it's the cross that I chose, it’s true" he replies with a chuckle, knowing that those three, in a way all their own, have enriched his life and that even if they appear outside as the most improbable of families, that it's his personal beautiful, weird family.


End file.
